Fantastic Mr. Fox

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Fantastic Mr. Fox

Post by Info » Thu Dec 22, 2016 4:47 pm

Every one of Wes Anderson's films FAILS in the editing room.

Like all great masterpieces his failure comes down to purpose. Wes is too in love with his cinematography & writing and not in love enough with the FUNCTION of his movies. When a director loses site of his purpose, he makes the fatal mistake of producing extraneous or contradictory themes and visuals.

Take his greatest film--and one of the greatest films of all time--Fantastic Mr. Fox. It's a colorist's wet dream. An otherwise historically vanilla-themed yellow tone is deftly and masterfully molded into an enchanting, heart-warming, leisurely stroll through the gentle kaleidoscope of melancholy identity crises and common family troubles. The colors guide your emotions across meadows of typically paralyzing social problems as if they were nothing more than emotional daisies to be rightly picked, discarded, decorated with, or ignored at one's leisure.

Now contrast this supremely controlled color palette with that cunt, Mrs. Fox, who scrapes the flesh off Mr. Fox, producing an unsettling gash on his cheek. All the yellow and orange hues in the world aren't going to undo the damage of seeing the quintessential man getting cucked by a mere story-incidental woman. We are once again crudely violated with the bullshit feminist social norm that men are bad and women are good; men are petty and women are noble; men are mistakes and women are solutions. Fuck you, Wes. Just because you're a woman masquerading as a man doesn't mean the rest of mankind wants to follow in your emasculated footsteps.



Also, the theme of unrequited love is prevalent in most of Wes's films because that is the fate of all emasculated males. They pine after the very thing they repel through their own personal shame and deferential behavior. This is ironic considering how bold the characters are (even though conspicuously hampered by their contrasting monotone expression).



Yet with all of Mr. Fox's boldness, he like many other males in the Wes Anderson universe are completely unable to stand up to women. They passively cower or actively defer. In either case, the result is the same; a cucked version of manhood passed off as progressive masculinity.

How is the audience supposed to react? Are we supposed to cheer for Mr. Fox's obvious loss of balls? Are we supposed to root for a male who is essentially apologizing for his very existence to a female who in real life wouldn't be fit to shine his boots? Is this picturesque emasculation supposed to quench our thirst for meaning in an otherwise female-centric universe?

FUCK. THAT.

Wes's strength, like all emasculated males, lies in his tone, not his message. His legacy is one of feeling, not significance. And this most cherished of movies falls face first on the editing floor. It is at once beautiful and repellant, free-spirited and full of feminist propaganda, tender and pretentious. If I could edit out the hipster hubris and eccentric arrogance, I could easily turn this film into the true masterpiece it deserves to be. As it stands, it has the correct skeletal structure of a deliciously satisfying apple pie experience ruined by the conspicuously dead fly of feminist ideology polluting its fleshy core.

A for effort. C for effect. :wanker:

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